Sunday, April 16, 2017

Kit Kelen #466 - has not existing bothered God?

has not existing bothered God?

not a whit
it's highly over rated
if you can be everywhere
all knowing
encompass all
then why would you need to merely be?

it's not for lack of evidence
He's not
faith keeps afloat
and wonders are everywhere manifest

a puff of breeze for lazy proof
the Miracle Whip
but let's not call him names

and how is the attention sought?
play hard to get
the All's reverse psychology

make mine meek
go fish

and make a wish
no, make that three

isn't it a rooster's crow
keeps the game alive?

then all this work's anonymous
the envy of a pantheon
of buried deities

is it Aten?
no it's Ra restored
how many suns can there be?

it's a bull
it's a bird

it's some kid with a magnifying glass

raw feast of
the lion king

be bearded with the the best of tribe
so wive me penis pop

oh loved beyond the heart's good reasons
Retributive and Allied
but never all tools down
oh omnipote smiter

the smote are offer up
eponymous – they're yours

let's call you
for goodness sakes

what a prayer crowd clogs
heaven's above

here's how truth set free at first
then set upon

thunder claps
and that's applause

a baton tap
and all attend

God's blood
in the high chair
just demanding
all you get is mush

big bub
commanding all

all todge too
no age too tender

or there's mere absence
an unspoken
no girl tot rules a world

in every ache some deity
put the others all to death
unclean until the evening

perhaps you've not noticed
but it's personal

you think of your father often
and how can he be gone?

the journey to yes
and the journey to know

each equally unleaded now

a stretch and presidential
great God is yawning

there's no amount of huff and puff
no dreaming that will make you be 

Easter Sunday Addendum

you can be three and really be none
not being at all must be half the fun


  1. Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song
    I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
    On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
    And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
    At an old Baptist church there was no need to run
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    The clouds they were grey and the autumn wind blew
    And Denise McNair brought the number to two
    The falcon of death was a creature they knew
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    The church it was crowded, but no one could see
    That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
    Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    Young Carol Robertson entered the door
    And the number her killers had given was four
    She asked for a blessing but asked for no more
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground
    And people all over the earth turned around
    For no one recalled a more cowardly sound
    And the choirs kept singing of freedom

    The men in the forest they once asked of me
    How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea
    I asked them right back with a tear in my eye
    How many dark ships in the forest?

    The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
    And I can't do much more than to sing you a song
    I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
    And the choirs keep singing of freedom

    Joan Baez - Birmingham Sunday Lyrics

    1. But no. They're not bothered, They're partying.

    2. Thanks for buying this record.

  2. Thank you gentlemen this was an Easter concert too muchly enjoy :)


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